


Every Last Reason

by DarkSophie_Fangirls



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Boyfriends, Drunk Grantaire, Enjolras & Grantaire - Freeform, Enjolras loves Grantaire so much, Enjolras wants Grantaire to stop drinking, Fighting, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, Grantaire & Enjolras, Grantaire and self loathing, Grantaire talks about Enjolras like art, Les Miserables - Freeform, Les Misérables References, M/M, Self Loathing, domestic Enjoltaire, so cute, so many feels, srsly put the bottle down Taire, this two fuckers being annoying and then cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 02:01:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7958041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkSophie_Fangirls/pseuds/DarkSophie_Fangirls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras had accepted one glass of wine for the night, but Grantaire being himself had obviously got things out of hand and ends up drunk and having a fight with Enjolras. Why did he even stay? Why did he even care? So Enjolras shows Grantaire every last reason he has to stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Last Reason

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this like a million years ago and posted it on tumblr, but as I really like it and I'm a selfish asshole I'm posting it again. Comments and kudos are appreciated. Love you all. Hope you like this

Small talk and wine filled their living room, Enjolras had accepted one glass of wine for the night, but Grantaire being himself had obviously got things out of hand and now he curled drunkly on Enj’s chest as the blond man’s hand played lovingly on the dark mess of curls.

"We should probably get some sleep" Enjolras said, suddenly realizing it was nearly 3 am. 

“What we should get is some more wine.” Replies his boyfriend eyeing the empty greenish bottle lying on the floor. 

“I’m serious, R. We have to wake up early to-" 

"Shhhh” a thin finger was placed over Enjolras’ lips, pressing a little too hard. “Don’t be grumpy, I just want to be here, with you… And some more wine.” Grantaire stood up, walking clumsily towards the bottle. 

“Taire, you’re drunk." 

"Yes, sir!" 

"Let’s just get some sleep, please.” But the dark haired didn’t listen and continued to walk to his goal. “Grantaire, please. Just come to bed with me.” Enjolras reached out for Grantaire’s arm, but he escaped his grip just in time. 

“In a little while. I just want one more drink. Just one more glass of wine.” Grantaire’s voice words were numb and think and slipped out of his mouth slowly. 

"No. You’ve had enough alcohol for the night.“ Grantaire kept on walking, ignoring his boyfriend. "Please understand, you can’t just keep on getting drunk like that, Taire, it concerns me, it drives me crazy to think that one day it will be one too many glasses of wine. It’s terrifying to have to think that one day I’ll have to pick you up at the ER, or that you will be caught in a driving accident, or in a fight you can’t win. That there will come a day when your organs just can’t take it anymore. And…” Enjolras suddenly realized what he was doing, what he was saying and he wished to stop his words, to take them back. Because even though he meant it, even though the pain and fear were there, he knew the effect those words would have on Grantaire. He knew the artist would blame himself, and hate himself for it. And it was the last thing Enjolras wanted to make Grantaire feel. 

“I’m just worried to think about all the medical problems it can bring you when you’re older.” He finished and looked down at his hands. “Taire, I’m–" 

"Well you don’t have to worry about it.” Grantaire spit the words like poison. “No way on Earth I’m getting to grow old anyway.” His hands closed the grip on the bottle and and glass, and he rushed to the kitchen, trying to get some more alcohol. Trying to get some comfort. The world was fuzzy as Grantaire placed the bottle and glass on the table, and bowed to find something with alcohol in it. His head spinned and his mouth felt dry. 

Enjolras just stared at the void, feeling a lump on his throat and his chest heavy. 

Grantaire’s words felt like being kicked on the face; raw pain mixed with confusion and numbness. 

Deep down inside, he knew. He knew Grantaire didn’t expect his life to go much further than his mid-thirties. But he also hoped to change that. He desired to make Grantaire love life as much as Enjolras loved him. And though they never talked about their future, or future at all, Enjolras often daydreamed about it. Enjolras expected to spend the rest of his life by Grantaire’s side. For the first time, he’d let his feelings try to make his logic shut up, he held to the hope that Grantaire desired the same future beside him, though his logic told him otherwise. Because it was far too painful to try to imagine a life without Grantaire.

Enjolras was never a romantic. Poems and metaphors and fairy tales where Jehan’s thing. But he was certain he’d found his soulmate, if there was such thing.

“Taire…” he whispered at his boyfriend who was still struggling to find a new bottle. But his words went unheard as the dark haired man’s desperation and anger became overwhelming, and he started to open cabinets full of rage. “Taire.” He said, louder this time but still too low to make the other man turn. “Taire!" 

"What!” Grantaire snapped, yelling and turning around roughly, which sent the glass from his hand to the wall, breaking into little pieces that sang when they fell to the floor. “Oh God. Sorry, sorry.” He tried to take a rug from the table, making his clumsy hands rush, throwing the empty bottle and the toaster to the floor, causing a riot as the things bumped and broke. Grantaire rushed to the floor, forgetting about the rug and started to pick the shapeless pieces, trying to fix it. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry." 

"It’s okay.” Enjolras mumbled, bowing. “It’s okay, leave it there, you’re gonna hurt yourself, R.” But it was too late, Grantaire’s hands were already bleeding because of the broken crystals. Taking them in his own, Enjolras pulled closer to Grantaire. “It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay, we’ll cure you." 

Grantaire pulled away from his grip. "It’s not okay.” A moment of dead silence followed the abrupt words. “It’s not okay! Come on! Scream at me! Tell me I’m stupid and useless! It’s not okay. It’s not okay! It’s my fault, everything’s my fault! Yell at me. Yell at me like everyone else does! Yell at me like you did!” Grantaire laid on the floor, forceless, sobbing and cursing under his breath. 

After a long pause, Enjolras said. “We both know that’s not going to happen.” He sighed. “R, I’m sorry I–" 

"No.” Grantaire cut him off. “No. Don’t you come at me and apologize for my mess. I’m not letting you do that." 

"Grantaire we’ll clean up in the morning just get some sleep please.” Grantaire’s green eyes were a mirage of pain, a vivid expression of sorrow and mourning. They were stained with an overdose of the real world. Enjolras, realizing he wouldn’t let it die there, started to pick the broken pieces up carefully from the floor. “Let me.” He whispered, taking the pieces from Grantaire’s hand. 

“What do you want from me?” Grantaire mumbles roughly. 

“Wha–" 

"What do you want from me? Wha- What do you expect from me? Why are you here? I’m broken, Enjolras." 

The silence made Enjolras start talking. "I–" 

"I’m broken beyond repair! I’m screwed up! I’m garbage! I’m poison! I’m poison. Why are you still here? Why haven’t you left like the rest of them? What do you see on me!” Little by little, as his voice rose, Grantaire stood up. “What could be worth it for you to keep up with my shit?" 

The word slipped easily out of Enjolras’ lips. "You" 

"Me?” A cynic laughter started to pour of Grantaire’s mouth. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m a little piece of shit. I’m still the same man you met a year ago, drunk and fucked up and I’m never going to change. And I swear—I swear to God that there is not one single thing on myself worth concerning for, or worth at all. I’m useless and relentless and I am wild. And you bring light and comfort but I stain you. I’m a burden you don’t want to carry and I suck the life out of you. Either you like it or not, I’m too much work to put up with in exchange for nothin’! And sooner or later you will realize I’m a waste of time. A waste of space, and yet you keep me here.” He took two steps closer to Enjolras. “You keep me here and you make me laugh and you drive me crazy. I was ready to kill myself. That night at the bar, and at the subway platform and at the bridge. I was ready to jump or put a bullet through my head. And then I saw you. The rest of the world was black and white, but you—you were in streaming colors. And I heard your voice and Vivaldi was jealous, then I heard you laugh and Mozart was ready to die again. I met you and the world was reborn." 

A single salty water drop slid from the corner of Enjolras’ eye. A revolution of emotions revolving inside of him, and the tears broke loose. It was a new thing for him, crying. And it felt awfully vulnerable. 

Grantaire just stared at Enjolras trying to memorize every corner of his face, the dark shade in his everlastingly glowing blue eyes, the shape of his lips and his straight nose, the blond curls that rained upon his forehead, his jawline… He wanted to take the memory when he walked out the door and he wanted to carry it until it was no longer a source of life, until he gave up on surviving. He wanted to die with Apollo’s face tattooed on his eyelids. 

"I met you,” Grantaire said between sobs. “I met you and I started to watch the sunsets and the stars and the flowers. I met you and my canvases were filled with color again, you poured life into me.” Grantaire took two steps forward. “I met you and I began to play, to live again. You enlightened my world with heated discussions and brought the best of me because that’s who you are, Apollo. You’re everything good and breathtaking in my world. But I’m Icarus, Apollo and I’ve flown too close to the sun.” The space between them was barely an inch. “And sooner or later my wings will be burned out. I don’t want to take all your light with me when I fall.” Grantaire’s hand grabbed Enjolras’ crying face, holding on to the white marble skin, swiping away the tears. “I’m poison, Enj. I’m poison and I will end up killing you. Look, I’ve fucked up pretty bad more times than I can count, but this, ruining you, it’s just too low. Even for scum like me.” He leaned closer, trying to kiss Enjolras just once more, but Enjolras grabbed Grantaire’s face in both hands staring right into his eyes, then said. 

“When will you understand I’d choose death over not having you?” Enjolras’ voice was shaky and weak, but the words came out as strong as they could have. 

Grantaire took three steps back, unsuccessfully trying to hold back tears. “Don’t you understand, Apollo? Can’t you understand? I. Am. Useless. You were set on the world to change it. And I was set on the world to pollute it. You are meant for great things in life that you can’t achieve with me by your side. I’m setting you free. I’m letting you pursue your dreams. I’m leaving before I kill you! Why—why would I stay? You don’t need me.” Grantaire rushed to the door, followed closely by Enjolras. “You can’t need me, Apollo.” And he started running. 

Chasing Grantaire wasn’t easy until getting to the stairs, where he tripped with his feet and ended up on the floor. “Let me go!” He tried to push Enjolras away “let me go!" 

"I would never!” Enjolras said, trying to make him sit down again. 

“Why?” The word cut sharp through sound making an iron veil of silence fall upon them. 

“Why won’t you let me go!” Grantaire sobbed. “Why would you want me here? Why should I stay?" 

"Because I love you!” Cried Enjolras in desperation. 

“You love me?” A cynical laugh fell off Grantaire’s lips. “What could you love about me? I’m–" 

"I love your hands,” Enjolras cut in “and the wonders you can make with them.” He took Grantaire’s still bleeding hands and pulled them to his chest. “I love to see you paint, frowning and growling at the canvas where magic is happening. I love it when you speak your mind and when you try to drive me crazy, I love your perspective of the world when you’re not drowning it on hate. I love when you kiss me fiercely and when you hold me too tight against your chest. I love it when you whisper my name and I love it when you half smile and say something sarcastic. It drives me crazy when you make people mad. I love it when you cook for me. I love you because you’re an artist to the core and I love you because you’re relentless and you’re wild. I love you because you are a thunderstorm, because you are full of energy and life. I love you, Grantaire, and I love you even if you get drunk every night, and I love you for it. I love you when you get caught up in fights because I love you. I love you because of who you are and regardless of what that may be. I love you because you’re life, because you’re my life, Grantaire. And I will never stop loving you. And I will stay by your side. For as long as you may have me." 

Grantaire leaned on Enjolras’ shoulder, sobbing and Enjolras gripped him tight, burying his face on the dark mess of curls, too afraid to move, to talk, to breathe or to do something that would make Taire leave. 

"I love you, Apollo.” Grantaire whispered between sobs. Enjolras pressed a kiss on his hair and they stayed there, too afraid to move until dawn poured light and warmth upon them.


End file.
